


Rebranding

by airdeari



Series: self-indulgent aoilight within [15]
Category: Zero Escape (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life, naps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-05-08
Packaged: 2018-10-29 09:24:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10851093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airdeari/pseuds/airdeari
Summary: Sundays and depression go hand in hand. So do depression and sleeping way too much.(so does depression and me writing gay garbage to cheer myself up)





	Rebranding

As he was washing the toner out of his hair, freshly re-bleached at the roots, Aoi heard a familiar robotic voice reciting, “ _Three forty-seven P.M.,_ ” just before Light gave a sigh so heavy he could hear it from the bathroom.

“Waitin’ for somethin’, babe?” Aoi asked, wringing his hair in a towel as he walked back into the bedroom in only his boxers.

Light was slumped over his desk with an open laptop, headphones sliding off of one of his ears. The screen was cracked and if it bent the wrong way, the entire display could glitch out into a rainbow of static. This bothered Clover more than it bothered Light, and so the siblings had swapped computers. The cognitive dissonance of seeing the net worth of the investment profile of the company he himself owned, and seeing the shitty computer his own boyfriend used, made him offer to replace it at least a thousand times. Light would have none of it.

“Only waiting for a socially acceptable hour to fall asleep,” he mumbled, speaking directly into his arm. He had discarded the other on the floor underneath his chair. It always looked rather morbid when his prosthetic was detached from his body, but this moment was a contender for the most jarring.

“Dude, I hearda this thing called _napping_? Good shit.” Draping the towel around his neck, Aoi hopped back into the bathroom and snatched up Light’s socket plug from its place beside the tub. “C’mon, get in bed. I got your plug.”

“I don’t need to _nap_ ,” he protested. “I need to sleep for seven to ten hours like some kind of nocturnal catastrophe.”

Aoi had listened to an audiobook playing from Light’s speakers about the effects of photosensitivity, or lack thereof, on circadian rhythms. This explained the way Light’s sleeping hours tended to gradually shift later and later throughout the week. It did not explain how Light could have a full night’s sleep from three in the morning till eleven, and then require another within five hours.

“It’s Sunday, babe. It’s a lazy Sunday.” He drew the curtains closed on Light’s window as he passed it, leaving only a thin sunbeam lying across the unmade bed. “C’mon. Ain’t nothin’ to do today. Let’s just be a couple of depressed fucks and sleep seven hours in the middle of a Sunday.”

From behind the desk chair, Aoi scrunched up the empty, baggy sleeve of Light’s tee to slide the plug over the pins and cables in his arm. As soon as it clicked into place, he slid an arm around Light’s neck and shoulders and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“M’gonna go put pajamas back on,” he said, then gave Light another kiss. “Get cozy, babe. Be right there.”

“I’m a little disappointed that you just plan to _enable_ my poor decisions,” Light sighed as Aoi retreated to throw his towel back into the bathroom. Nonetheless, he kicked his arm away from the wheels of his desk chair so that he could scoot his way to the bed.

“Low blood pressure today?” Aoi asked.

“Oh, possibly.” Light flopped from the chair to the bed in a graceless heap. “Low _everything_ today. It’s difficult to differentiate.”

Aoi pulled open Light’s drawers to survey his collection of flannel pants. “Low body temperature?” he asked. “Low oxytocin? Serotonin? Dopamine?”

“Aoi, my dearest, I don’t know why you think you can steal my pajamas when you know that my dresser makes an entirely different sound than yours.”

“I think I can steal ’em ’cuz you love me.”

“An entirely valid argument.” Light grabbed one corner of the blankets and rolled over with it in his grip, turning himself into a human burrito. “Mm, low body temperature may be at play. I require your services.”

“Then get back outta the blankets, you fruit roll-up,” Aoi retorted, hiking up the far-too-long legs of Light’s pants over his heels.

Light lay still. “Fruit roll-up,” he repeated distantly. “That’s… beautiful, Aoi. The wordplay is _exquisite_. You absolute treasure.”

Aoi smirked as he slid up beside Light’s blanket cocoon. “I’ll make it your nickname in my phone if you remind me after we wake up.”

“Then it shall be a relic lost to the sands of time,” Light sighed wistfully.

“Get the hell outta these blankets for one damn second so I can cuddle you, you prick.”

The fruit unrolled. He let out a tender sigh when Aoi pressed up against his chest, settling their bones together in a way that was never comfortable for both, but sharing warmth, touch, and love always seemed to supersede comfort.

Light nestled his face against the top of Aoi’s head, inhaled, and sighed. “Your hair smells atrocious.”

“It _looks_ great.”

“Well, it had better.” He kissed Aoi’s damp and chemical-soaked locks. “Sweet dreams, dearest.”


End file.
